On the fifteenth morning, there was no roasted rabbit on Harlow's plate.
She stared at the empty spot in front of her chair for a long time.
"Where is he?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Mars looked up from his bread with a very satisfied expression. "Maybe he finally gave up."
"Mars," Emmelyn warned.
"What? I'm only saying."
Harlow put down her fork. Her appetite was suddenly gone.
He gave up?
No. That couldn't be right. He waited eighteen years to meet her. He sent her gifts every single year. He followed her to Cretea and fought the gods for her. A man like that didn't just give up after ten days.
Did he?
She remembered the way she had treated him all week. Ignoring him. Rolling her eyes at him. Pretending she didn't care when he cooked for her, when he played with her brothers, when he made Icecube and Snowflake a new nest with his own hands.
Maybe he finally got tired of it.
